Black People's Guilty Pleasures Vol I: The Maury Show Thursday, August 28, 2008

The older I have gotten, the more I have realized that most of my friends are of the highly educated variety. Yet and still, as much as we can all agree that The Maury Show sets back black people one generation per half hour segment, we can't seem to get enough of it. Which is strange, because we all have jobs but seem to make time to find a clip or two of the show here and there.

The funny thing about The Maury Show is that it has survived from the period from mid to late 1990s when television solely consisted of shows of the Maury variety; i.e. Jerry Springer (which is still around too, but is way too over the top to be believable anymore), Ricki Lake, Jenny Jones, and even Tempsett Bledsoe ('Vanessa' from the Cosby Show) got in on the action. Some of those shows looked like they actually were shot on the same set (why buy more than one garbage can for one bag of garbage right?), but for some reason Maury is still around (remember when The Maury Show was called The Maury Povich Show?).

The thing that makes that show so gully is that we all watch it for the same reason; the paternity tests. And TiVo/DVR has made The Maury Show that much more off the chain; nothing like being able to rewind and pinpoint the precise moment when one and/or both of the Maury's guests show the first sign of saltiness (it kind of becomes like that JFK movie; 'back and to the left... back and to the left'). And it usually never fails that guys at home watching are hoping the baby does not turn out to be the man's, and women are at home rooting for the baby mama's vindication.

Now see if Maury was the true marketing genius that I am, then he would find even more ways to capitalize off the popularity of those paternity test shows. Personally I would turn 'skank ass baby mama running off the stage after she finds out the baby does not belong to who she claims' into an Olympic event. Instead of 'on your mark... get set... go...', Maury could kick off the race with 'you... are... NOT...' (because usually by the time he gets to the word 'not', those broads be all the way by the emergency exit backstage).

What makes Maury even more of a guilty pleasure than it needs to be, is that somewhere deep inside all of us, we all hope to see someone we know but aren't that cool with on the show. One of these days though, black people are going to band together and get Maury taken off the air for the platform he provides people to play themselves on national television; or at least convince him to move to BET.

A Proposed Law Against Baby Mamas

I've become accustomed to the conditions of public transportation; it's usually crowded, smells like what the slaves must have rode on during their experiences with 'public transportation', and there's that one dude you spy when you first get on the bus and vote him as 'Most Likely to Rob Me If Make the Mistake of Falling Asleep on the Bus'. Also, I've recently developed a higher tolerance for when the bus has to load wheelchair patrons (don't act like I'm the only one who hopes the non-leggers get on the bus before the light changes); but for everything I learn to not hate, it's replaced with things I learn to not love.

So the day started out like any other today; standing on the bus stop at 7am, learning to sleep while standing up until the bus arrives. When the bus did arrive, I felt like this bus was headed to a taping of the Maury Show Paternity Special, because I'll be damned if there weren't like seven skrollas ('strollers' for those who actually attended a high school) taking up all the space. I mean the bus was packed and it wasn't even a lot of people on the bus, just a lot of strollers. So while I'm standing there on the bus (trying to guess which baby that smell is coming from), I came up with a new law that I plan to write my local congressman about (and by 'plan', I mean 'probably never').

New Law: A woman shouldn't be allowed to have a child if neither her nor the child's father has access to a vehicle.

Now for some women this may seem like a law aimed at them; to those women I say how about getting pregnant by a non-shiftless negro every once in while. I mean really, why must the world be inconvenienced because your baby's daddy hasn't seen to it that you and 'Lil Man' not have to stand outside catching buses? And heaven forbid if I slightly brush up against the handle part of the stroller as I make my way to the back of bus, then all of sudden I'm getting cursed out (in whatever version of English their teaching in the GED classes these days). Know your place, baby mama. Know your place.

So why do I catch the bus, instead of driving myself? Because 1. gas is $12 per swig and 2. I'm not the one responsible for raising any of these future felons (who will ultimately get out on parole and start a rap group called 'Future Felons').

Really I blame the bus driver for my situation this morning; at the point when there were two strollers loaded onto the bus, he should have acted like the baby's father and left those chicks on the street by themselves. But as anyone in Chicago knows, trying to talk common sense into these bus drivers is like trying to start a discussion about abstinence at an orgy; nobody's hearing you.

Plus, the proposed new law is flexible. Note that it does not say you have to own a vehicle, it just says you must have access to one. So how about you talk to your baby's father and tell him that in between smoking weed/selling weed/playing Madden (which is the shit)/dodging you, to go acquire you a car. If that doesn't work, you may want to convince some other unfortunate and unsuspecting bastard that he is actually the father of your child. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

I Knew Somebody Would Be Called An Uncle Tom: And Five More Racist Predictions for the Democratic National Convention Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Everyone seemed so shocked when Illinois State Senate President Emil Jones called Democratic delegate Del Marie Cobb an 'Uncle Tom'; but not I. If there is anything that I know as a black dude, it's that you can't put a room full of old black people together and not have the phrase 'Uncle Tom' thrown around fervently and frequently. Stuff like this happens at every family gathering when the rest of the family is struggling, and that one successful uncle with a good engineering job arrives. Though it probably wasn't newsworthy, I'm sure somebody was caught cheating and/or reneging at the spades game later that night.

Also, I should be collecting that Miss Cleo money (who still remembers her?) because I also predicted that there would be some type of foiled assassination plot against Obama; though I thought it would have been carried out by Jesse Jackson running up with the scope attached to a scalpel (does contemplating castrating someone count as a homo erotic fantasy?). Yet and still there is more time left in the convention for more of my predictions to come true, and I'll share them just so I can get my much deserved credit.

1. President Bush will run up in there with his personal rifle, because he heard Osama will be giving a speech.

2. There will be at least one picture to surface on the web of Barack Obama eating a piece of fried chicken, because that's just how the media do.

3. Jesse Jackson will be seen trying to take said piece of fried chicken because he doesn't feel Obama has paid his dues.

4. Del Marie Cobb will finally retaliate to Emil Jones' comment with the appropriate response of 'darkie', and proceed to taunt him with the 'Jiggaboo' song from the movie School Daze.

5. Bill Clinton will make the mistake of referring to Obama as the second black U.S. president, upon which Obama will have no choice but to challenge Clinton to a footwork contest (because he's from Chicago), a freestyle battle (because he's from the South Side of Chicago), and a slap boxing match (because he used to hang out on the West Side of Chicago).

You laugh now, but when one or more of things come to fruition, the world will be happy to pay me $1.99 per minute to guess lucky numbers and shit (as a matter of fact my psychic line will be aptly titled Lucky Numbers n' Shit). I also had the chance to catch Obama's wife's speech last night. And is it me, or did Michelle Obama look as fine as Condoleeza Rice could look if Condoleeza Rice didn't look like her name should be Condoleeza Rice?

Black Man's Handbook to Dating: Rule #666 Monday, August 25, 2008

I hear a lot of dating exploits via my circle of friends, and I can't help but think certain situations can be avoided if you develop a set of personal 'don't do this' rules and just never break them. One rule that I have (and I didn't even realize how firm I stood by this rule until fairly recently) has always done right by me, so I present to you:

Black Man's Handbook to Dating: Rule No. 666 - Never get involved with a chick that goes by solely a nickname.

Now at face value this may seem a bit harsh to all of the sisters (and there are a lot of you) out there with nicknames. But follow me for a second.

First of all, nicknames are best used sparingly. A person should only know your nickname if they are cool with you like that. Everyone has a nickname (myself included), but a red flag for dating is when a woman (also known as chick/shorty/slim/lil mama/broad/[insert sexist term here]) introduces herself by her nickname. Sometimes women have those long ass hood names i.e. De'neshirita, in which case everyone benefits by simply shorting her name to 'Dee'. But if a woman introduces herself by her nickname, and never even mentions her real name, then chances are she either: A. has multiple baby-daddies and the different nicknames they call her is how she remembers who fathered which B. is in a gang and will shoot you or C. she and her baby-daddies are all in the same gang, and are setting you up to get robbed because you went to college, which clearly means you own lots of nice things (only in the hood do people think graduating college guarantees you six-figures).

Now it could be a case in which maybe she doesn't like her real name, and she says something to the effect of 'I think my real name is ugly/dumb sounding/doesn't fit what I look like'. To most people, all of these sound understandable; but to me it is another red flag. There's legal procedures you must go through before you just up and decide to change your damn name. If she has no respect for the law, then I'm willing to bet she's broken the law a few times (breaking the law is for black guys only; can't we have anything anymore?). As a rule of thumb, never get involved with a chick with a criminal history; you'll only pay for it in the long run (bail money is reserved for when grandma decides to throw beer bottles at cop cars again).

So what are other reasons a woman would go by a nickname exclusively? Well there's really no nice way to say it; she may be a hoe. I've witnessed three different scenarios in my lifetime in which two dudes were talking about the same chick under a different nickname, and not even realizing it was the same chick (hilarity almost never ensued).

So before my comment section is blown up with hateful remarks, I would like to take this time to apologize to the all the 'Lil Mamas', 'Baby Girls', 'Preciouses', 'Pumpkins', and 'LaLas'... you're different.

Chicago Urban League Sues Illinois Over Education Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The Chicago Urban League has filed a lawsuit against the state of Illinois and the Illinois State Board of Education claiming the school funding methods are unconstitutional. According to Cheryle Jackson, president of the Chicago Urban League, minority children are not getting the same level of quality education as their more affluent counterparts.

This lawsuit comes on the heels of State Senator Reverend Meeks call for a school boycott to highlight the disparities of school funding. A more in-depth discussion of the specificities of the lawsuit, and all of the plaintiffs involved can be found on Market Watch.

Common Sense About John McCain

America has yet to spend one day honoring and confronting the truth during one day in my lifetime; and because of that we're in the situation that we're in. If America faced the truth that most corporations really are evil faceless entities, then we wouldn't be so surprised when we find out that big greedy investment banks have totally screwed the housing market (did we learn anything from the savings and loan scandals of the eighties?). If we faced the truth that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction, then we wouldn't be surprised to find out that we went over there with ulterior motives. But all of those things are water under the bridge. Yet it is still not too late to grasp our latest moment of truth; John McCain is a crazy old man.

Can I call John McCain both crazy and old with no validation? Sure I can. It's my blog and if I needed facts for every opinion I had then I would write for the New York Times, now wouldn't I? However, let's use our voices of reason to apply common sense to the Republican candidate for president.

I'm a firm believer that the hood has more to offer in the vein of nurturing intellectual thought than any university in the world (and the fact that I attended college and live in the hood make me extra smart; 'the most ballin'-est shit ever, son'). With that being said, how many of us have ran into the crazy Vietnam veteran dude in the street or on the bus? You know the dude who is still fighting the war mentally and occasionally makes machine-gun noises with his mouth while sitting next to you. Not fit to run the country, is he? As a matter of fact, my bus route runs past the V.A. Hospital and I wouldn't let any of the dudes who get off at that stop make me a ham and cheese sandwich; let alone define the country's foreign and domestic policies (maybe one or the other, but both is just insane).

But see, when it comes to John McCain you're only allowed to sum up his service to this country as him being a war hero. You're never allowed to go into much more detail than that. Once again America (much like the girl everybody asked to prom) you're looking in the mirror and refusing to admit the truth (they asked you to prom because you're a whore). We all know that people come home from war absolutely insane. Why wouldn't they; they've seen things. And those are the ones who haven't been held captive by the enemy...

Add to that the fact that McCain is 72 years old (and we're talking earth years; not that '72 is the new 62' bullshit), and what do you have? A dude with a bad memory, the propensity to fall asleep mid conversation, yet may just wake up mistaking you for an enemy combatant. Bad combination. Yes America, they are only asking you to the prom because word got around.

Seems Pretty Damn Skippy to Me... Tuesday, August 19, 2008

... that anytime an officer is shot and/or killed in this city, a suspect is apprehended in a matter of days. Dare I suggest that the Chicago Police Department tries harder when one of their own is a victim of violence? Well compare the shooting death of Robert Soto to any number of shootings that have taken place throughout the city this summer (or the murders of 26 Chicago Public School students this past year).

Sure you hear about the murders and when/where they take place (so at least you know which places to avoid and at what times), but how often do you hear about someone being arrested in connection to those murders? Usually the investigation ends with the locally famous phrase, '... police say the shooting appears to be gang related.'

'Case closed Johnson. Another fine piece of detective work.'

I'm sure gangs are responsible for a lot of senseless violent acts in the hood, but do the police even know which gang? Oh, but let a fellow police officer get gunned down by a suspected gang member and the department will get all COINTELPRO on that ass. I'm not saying that people who are suspected of killing cops (and yes at this point, the young man pictured is only a suspect) shouldn't be brought to justice; but can the people get a little of that service and protection as well?

When Jesus Calls, He'll *67 You

The nerve of some people in this city. Every morning on my way to work by way of the Red Line, I'm assaulted by the church people; you know, the folks that run up on you with the 'Holy Handout' (which I don't particularly mind unless they broad shoulder my path). These folks roll so deep at the 95th stop, oftentimes I mistake them for Gangster Disciples. But again, I have nothing against them because as all South Siders know, the South Side needs Jesus.

But today I was annoyed because the Church Lady (if that's even her real name) ran up on me with the handout shouting 'Jesus can save your life!' while on the damn cell phone. Really Church Lady? Really?! According to God via yourself, you had one job to do this morning and that was to deliver his word; and you go about it on the cell phone. Now do I take extra long smoke breaks, two-hour lunches, and nap in the bathroom? Of course I do... but my boss isn't Jesus, so I can get away with it. Surely if she believes that God is watching over me as I sin, then she must also believe that God sees her half-assing The Word because she's talking on the phone.

So being the semi-jerk that I am (read: asshole in a 'my vocabulary is bigger than yours' sort of way), I stand there and wait for her to get off the phone so that I can ask what church she is from (not because I cared a whole lot, but curiosity is a mutha when you need a reason to not be at work on time). Did she get off the phone? Nope. Did she at least acknowledge my presence? Yes, but only because she didn't like me standing around while she was on the phone. Does Jesus love her any less? You betcha.

So Church Lady expects everyone to read about becoming a follower of Christ, but she can't even make eye contact with me. Call me a cynic, but I'm sure there's a special place in hell for people who talk on their cell phone while doing field service (right next to the dude who services himself while text messaging). You ma'am, are not worthy of handing me literature about a god I only believe in out of fear.

How Much Should You Really Hate Your Ex? Friday, August 15, 2008

I got into a deep philosophical discussion the other day (drinking tends to invoke the great debater in everyone) about the proper level of hatred to have towards someone you used to date. I know people that have (for whatever reason) great friendships with their former significant other, and then others that have reciprocal restraining orders. Now for me, I don't hate any of my exes, but not seeing them is better than keeping in touch with them (which can be a form of hate I guess); but that's what works for me.

I know this one guy that fills out mail forwarding requests, just so he can receive his ex-girlfriend's mail and toss it in the trash (true hateful bastard shit); and I know an otherwise completely sane young woman who calls her ex-boyfriend's cell, and if the new chick (of that particular week) answers she goes into a story about she just found out she was pregnant, all in the name of bringing grief to that man's home. Of course those two people are slightly nuts, and I'm glad they can't read (this blog).

And to directly contradict myself for a moment, I would like to say there is an ex that I 'hate', but in a way that's healthy. See my hate for her keeps me away from her. Granted there have been more than one occasion in which I've wished for a small fire to take her out (not even a house fire, but a little bitch ass fire that would make everyone go 'How the hell did that burn 70% of her body?'); or maybe get attacked in the eye by a flock of birds that only go after people while they're driving. But these are just jokes (only because I haven't found a genie yet), and only serve as personal reminders to never find myself back together with that person.

Everyone knows the chronic 'break-up to make-up' couple, and the only reason they exist is because they hate each others' guts and haven't realized it yet (and probably won't until they get married). So how much should you hate your ex? Well I personally measure it in the number of seconds it would take for me to react if I saw the ex in danger. For example, if I saw my ex-girl getting beat the hell down, I would count to seven (with 'Mississippi' in between, and without taking my eyes off the action) and then intervene. See that's healthy hate right there; however, for those that would watch their former boo get monkey stomped for a solid ten/fifteen/or twenty-five seconds (one person in the debate last night said he would count to one hundred) then: a. You hate your ex a little too much, and b. You've just witnessed a crime.

The Hood Comes Out At Night (and sometimes in the day) Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Oh, So This Is What They Mean By Gentrification?

I don't get out much for social endeavors as I think I should, but I find myself traveling all over the city in the course of a day for work-related purposes. Usually I'm bouncing from my West Side office to downtown, and back again; but most of the places in between become CTA induced blurs (i.e. I sit on the bus and look straight ahead, to avoid contact with everyone who's avoiding eye contact with me; a little game all Chicagoans play amongst ourselves on the buses and trains).

So earlier this week, I had a meeting over on 35th Street and I got off the Redline to see all the baseball fans headed to the Sox game; my meeting was a bit east of The Cell and I chose to walk instead of taking the bus. As I'm walking, the police are out in full effect; which makes sense because one drunk white person can create as much havoc as five unemployed black dudes (though with the weakening of the American dollar and rising oil prices, that conversion rate is sure to fluctuate). But what strikes me as odd (and by odd, I mean so glaringly racist you don't believe your eyes) is that the police are handcuffing niggaz left and right. And I'm sure some of them did something (after all it is a Sox game, and white people make good targets for the stick-up kids).

But could there have been like seven different criminal offenses within a four block span? All along 35th Street? But it was like whatever for the moment; I'm sure these jigs would have done something before the night was over (even my conditioning, has been conditioned).

A day later, I returned to that area for a follow up meeting and this time there was no game going on. However, five-O is at it again. That's when it struck me... I had fallen victim to the Bush-like word games (a-la 'enhanced interrogation techniques'). See we've been calling it 'gentrification' for so long, that even a well-read, government-distrusting, vote-neither-democrat-nor-republican, black man such as myself had forgotten what really goes down. They don't just tear down buildings and resurrect new ones that our people can't afford to live in; the key component of gentrification is to arrest niggaz (though if they could tear down your building with your black ass in it, they would do so).

So from now on, the proper term for 'gentrification' is 'arresting niggaz'. And here's how you would use it in a sentence:

'Have you been on the West Side lately?'

'Yea, it's starting to look a lot better over in North Lawndale, where they putting up the condos...'

'That's cause they over there arresting niggaz.'

Arresting niggaz.

Never Work for An Old Black Guy Friday, August 8, 2008

I really have a love/hate affair with my own race (which is crazy, because I'm nowhere near light enough to pass for a white dude), but for the love of fried chicken; why can't we get it together on any level?

So after moving back into the heart of the city a little less than a year ago, I decided that I wanted to work for a community organization that focused on the African American community specifically; so I knew I would make slightly less than I would by working at Burger King, but a little more than I would by kicking shit at people who didn't fill my cup with their spare change. And I found a decent organization that does work for residents on the West Side of the city, but not because this dude knows how to run a business. He's a good dude to be sure, but shadier than Suge Knight discussing his whereabouts the night Biggie got shot. First of all, on payday this guy is mysteriously missing from the office so that he doesn't have to sign checks until after the bank closes.

Like today, I am waiting on him to return to the office with a client's receipt so that I can collect money from the client and bring it back to the office for my cut of the revenue. There's about an hour left before the bank closes and I have the strangest feeling that my boss will come walking in about five minutes after that. I don't know what's important to him, but I need my damn money. Not to mention, usually if I need him to return to the office to handle important client related issues, I already know that whatever time he says he'll return, to go ahead and tack about 45 minutes on to that. He pays his staff in promises, peanuts, and free copies of a free newspaper (I dare someone to ask me how that works). One day I'm going to take all my business smarts and fancy college learning over to a very reputable corporate gig (and by one day, I mean as soon as I hear back from the other jobs I applied for last week). Old black dudes.

When Will Black People...? Thursday, August 7, 2008

... finally tell BET to stop broadcasting. You know I work at a community newspaper (a local, in-print version of BET if you will), and we have a television in the office (dummy box 1, productivity 0) which was unfortunately stuck on BET for some reason today while I was working at my desk. So because I couldn't find the remote (mainly because I never moved an inch to look for it), I was stuck with the brain rot that was being broadcast.

It was like hell, or more descriptively, like masturbation; you knew you shouldn't, but who the hell is around to stop you? I wanted to physically get up and either change the channel or turn the tv off, but I got caught up in a little bullshit show called Hell Date. Now this used to be one of my guilty pleasures back in the day, until I realized that usually the first segment is mildly funny and it goes downhill from there. Sometime after that, I had the pleasure of catching a full episode of 106 and Park. I think they should take a survey and see how many of them damn kids did their homework (or even attended school that day) before coming to the taping of that show. This show is like TRL for link card recipients.

But then as I finally got up after two hours to turn the tv off (read: go to the bathroom), I realized that in a sick and twisted way that I was actually entertained. I always used to feel that way after watching BET back in the day; knowing that what I was watching was total trash, but still having a slight sense of viewer gratification (this was usually after Freestyle Friday on 106 and Park or The Booth segment of Rap City). Could this be what they mean by Black Entertainment Television? That no matter how trash BET becomes, the viewer will always be entertained?

Then the real epiphany hit me; I wasn't entertained, I was watching intently for inspiration to not come close to being like any of the bullshit I just witnessed. I mean could you imagine any of the so-called civil rights groups not protesting (i.e. creating a big stink on the FOX News Channel) any one of a number of these shows if they were on any other channel? Why does BET get a pass to push black people down? Because they got the word black in the title?

To me, getting BET off the air (because it is beyond the point of repair) is a more pertinent discussion than the N-word discussion can ever be.

And let's state the obvious, BET is not ran by black people; no self-respecting Negro (or even the laziest and most shiftless form of Negro for that matter) would say 'Hey, let's show Hell Date four times a day; Rap City episodes featuring the same set of four songs; and top off the primetime line-up with black cinema's finest films such as Vampire in Brooklyn; then to all the n-words coming in from a late night of drug selling/abusing, we'll hit them with Morning Inspiration, featuring white Jesus! Ooooh Weeeee... BET is going to be better than fried chicken AND watermelons!'

We like to point fingers at various rap artists (of whose names none of us will remember next year, mind you) for killing hip hop music; when will someone accuse BET of killing the hip hop movement? And yes, the hip hop movement is synonymous with the current generation of black culture; don't let nobody tell you otherwise.

I Swear to God! Vol I Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Continuing on with my righteous anger streak this week, I would like to take some time out to make some promises that I may or may not keep (depending upon if you're a member of law enforcement that happens to be reading this).

There are just some people who deserves what life (or a crazy black dude) gives them. With that being said...

I swear to God, I am going to slap to sleep the next unfortunate moron who says something to me about this fictional 'demographic' known as Generation Y. First of all, I'm a member of the so-called Generation X; which wikipedia defines as being coined by some eggheads from across the pond. But my first recollection of Generation X's usage was in commercials that were trying push soft drinks and clothing to me and all my friends in high school. And from Gen X, we get Gen Y which is even more bullshit than the bullshit it was based off of. That's what it is and that's how I see it.

And see, I would not have a problem with all of these marketing schemes (especially since I work in marketing) if all of these ploys weren't straight playing with people's heads (and by people, I mean some of the feeble-minded chicks that I happen to date from time to time). I not too long ago broke up with my girlfriend, but I remember a specific argument we got into towards the end of our relationship. I'm roughly two weeks shy of being a full five years older than she is (we were both adults; no Robert Kelly), but she learned about the whole Generation Y concept from some class she was taking in grad school. So in this argument, this intelligence-deprived dizzy broad proceeds to tell me that (after a few years of us shacking up mind you) we're a 'full generation apart'. WTF?! I honestly thought about tapping my elbow, climbing onto the top rope, and proceed to do what comes naturally. A full generation apart? Really? This is what crackpot marketing does when it reaches a textbook of a second-tier grad school, and wanders across the eyes of a dummy.

And I see all types of articles in the newspapers that further enforce this concept of Generation Y; and since people are stupid they buy into it (particularly if they happen to fit into the Generation Y category), and proceed to feel like they're special in some sort of way.

So yes, this is formal notice that I plan to 'Chicago-Southside-dirty cop-bent over the hood of a suspected stolen car-sucker punch' the fool who comes at me with any mention of a Generation Y.

To All You 'N-Words' That Has A Problem With An 'N-Word' Like Me Using The 'N-Word'

Let me start off by saying I live in the hood; therefore, I hear the 'n-word' all day long. Not only do I hear it all day, but when I'm surrounded by n-words, I use the n-word all day. It's a word people... that yes, can only be appropriately used by black people. Every time I hear people debate over the proper/improper use of the n-word, I find it funny in a disturbing 'you silly Negroes!' type of way. With all that we as African-Americans need to tackle in our communities, the n-word is always at the forefront of the debate among the most affluent members of the community (read: bougie n-words, that abandoned the hood a long time ago). I see crack, crack heads, and guns where I live; but somehow fools always want to talk about the use of the n-word is what's bringing our community down.

Let's think about this for a minute.

If your vocabulary consists of mainly the n-word, and other language deemed inappropriate in a workplace environment (except where I work, because the n-words around here ain't got no god-damned sense), then maybe you might want to get some of those SAT/ACT study guide flashcards and play catch up. But this isn't the most prevalent issue in our community, and I'm tired of people presenting it as such. Is it a word that represents centuries of hate and oppression? Sure it is, especially if it flies out the mouth of a white person. But if a white person calls you an n-word to your face (cause you should already know they're saying it behind your back), I blame you for not instilling the necessary amount of fear by presenting yourself as the realest n-word ever born. Word to Tupac.

Really, the whole debate over the n-word has created even more division amongst black people. Because of this irrelevant discussion, I'm not even sure which of my African-American friends can I even use the n-word around. I hate letting the n-word slip, then having an ultra-uncomfortable discussion with an n-word, about how the n-word makes them uncomfortable. Some days I wish it were legal to hand out 'get-a-grip' pokes to the throat to people that need to get a grip. Is this n-word really going to chastise me about using the n-word in his presence? It's n-words like that, that make me want to call them the n-word (and not in a good way, but the way George Bush uses it when he discusses Barak Obama with John McCain).

This whole debate came about from, guess who?... white people! Yes, liberal white people were tired of finding out the 'Stone Cold Steve Austin' way, that no matter how many black friends they had; no matter how many black causes they supported; using the n-word around black people granted them free admission to the nearest piece of concrete. White people wanted to be able to use the n-word, and since they couldn't, they got the house negroes to chastise the field negroes about using it. Classic white dude move (see: Willie Lynch). And now there's more division among black people because of it.

This message brought to you by an N-word w/an Attitude.